Saving Me
by Flamink
Summary: This apocalyptic world was never going to be like it was before, Belle found that out the hard way. Every part of her wants to give up. Was it chance or fate, that she came across the Saviors when she did. All she knew was this world was cruel & unforgiving. It had sent her spiraling into her darker nature. Could she come back? Did she even want to? What did it matter? Negan/OC


1.

With a hefty thud, he placed her on the bar in front of him and leant against the counter beside me. She was his barbed wire wrapped baseball bat which he called it Lucille.

He clicked his tongue, and took one of the dramatic fear-inspiring pauses that he so favoured, "Third time this week, Belle. You shitting me?"

I played around with the bottle of whiskey I had in my hands on the bar, sliding it from side to side, contemplating my answer. I came up with nothing suitable so took a swig of the liquid and placed the bottle firmly down on the counter and eyeballed him.

"Damn," He laughed to himself and shook his head with an endearingly dangerous smile.

A commotion outside in the street caught our attention for a second. He had come to find me with some of his men. Dwight and Paul, from his closer circle, flanked the inside of the door, whilst what looked like maybe three or four others were outside.

I had come across this establishment whilst I'd been out scavenging, some months ago now. It wasn't much worse off now than it had been when I'd first come across it. Miraculously the large sheet pane windows on the facade were still intact, and the front door still shut properly. Inside the chairs and tables were strewn about the place, having clearly been raided early on. There had been no food here, but I'd taken shelter for a night. There hadn't been anything left of much use originally. Though I had discovered a case of whiskey bottles hidden in the cellar, along with what had presumably been their owner. I'd sunk my dagger into his temple, so he wouldn't wrap his snapping dead jaw around my wrist. I'd re-hidden the remaining bottles in a little nook under some empty barrels, should I ever want to return. Today had been one of those days.

We fell silent and watched the guys outside through the smeared dirty windows, they dispatched a few of the dead quickly and quietly, and when the haunting sound of the last one went down, I reached again for the bottle. Negan's gloved hand wrapped around mine as I grasped it. I eyed him firmly and managed to stifle a grin. Unperturbed, he smirked back at me and released my hand, but gripped the stool I was perched on and spun it ninety degrees to face him.

I looked him up and down. He was older than me, at least ten or fifteen years, maybe even twenty. I hadn't asked because I didn't really care. It didn't really matter. Nothing mattered any more. He was dangerous, I had known that from the moment he'd found me. But he had managed to reawaken something inside me which, to be honest, scared me more.

In this very moment, he was trying to intimidate me. Hell, if I hadn't already polished off the majority of this remaining whiskey, he would've been exceptionally intimidating. He always was, that was just his way. I found him very alluring and he knew that, he'd known that before I'd even realised it myself. He was well groomed, which I suppose came with the territory of being the most feared leader of hundreds in this apocalypse. His dark but greying hair was slick combed back from his face. His dark eyes held so much more intelligence than any regular man and he was currently sporting a greying beard, that was a little too long to call it my preferred stubble. The thing about him which was the worst though, was his smile. His smile turned my knees to jelly.

He leaned in towards me, his gloved right hand reached out and touched my cheek and I smirked at him. I could tell what was coming. A fear-exalting, awe-inspiring speech, filled with truthful but inane remarks about how I shouldn't leave the Sanctuary, about how I could be down with the others earning points for my rations.

Or, about how it was time I became one of his 'wives'. But I was different from them, and he knew that as well. Unlike those women, I had nobody left to loose. Although he had convinced himself that they were all in his harem voluntarily, every single one was there to keep those they loved under his protection. I didn't need him to do that for me, my family were all gone.

Before he could launch into his act, I took another swig of whiskey and held it in my mouth. I wrapped my free hand into the hair at the base of his skull and pulled him in for a deep kiss. He moaned, grinning into me and allowed me to pass the whiskey from my mouth to his, swallowing quickly so he could match my invasive tongue.

He stepped forward, spreading my knees in the process and leaned into me, forcing me to arch my back so I wouldn't loose balance on the stool, but also so I pressed my body against him.

The kiss finished on his terms, but he stayed where he was, pushing against me, "Hmm," he spoke in a low growl, "There ain't no point denying it, I am so into you right now, I'll screw your brains out right here on this filthy counter if you like."

I couldn't hide my grin, though I already knew just how 'into' me he was. I could feel the pressing urgency of the bulge in his pants against my thighs.

"Don't tease me," I replied licking my lips.

"Oh, it ain't me that's doing the teasing Darlin'," he grinned back.

His arm snaked around my waist, and he nuzzled at my neck. I let him support my weight, took another hit of whiskey and put the bottle back on the counter top. I let out a moan as his lips kissed a sweet spot on my collarbone and made me almost forget myself. Dwight coughed and cleared his throat, making me come around. My eyes darted open to find I had both his and Paul's full attention.

"Are we doing this with an audience?" I asked Negan, knowing what I was about to add would gain a response, I just didn't know which kind, "Or are they joining in?"

Negan stopped dead and pulled back to read my face inquisitively. He was silent. That feeling stirred inside me again as he scanned my face then held my gaze for a dozen heartbeats.

Surprising me, he moved away, "Ladies choice," he said, calling my bluff. I don't know if my face gave away disappointment or if he knew what I was playing at. Probably both.

I slipped down from the stool and stood before him. I waited a second while I tried to read his eyes, but the whiskey was settling in now and my faculties were hazy at best.

I smiled and took the remaining whiskey with me, the thought that Negan was particularly well restrained today passing through my brain. When I'd left the Sanctuary on Thursday for the second time this week, he'd been really angry with me when he'd found me. I thought he would have been similar today, but it seemed not. Not this far at least.

The part of me that wanted to be done with this world once and for all was controlling me these days, more so than him. He didn't get that, didn't understand me, which I suppose is why I was holding his interest for so long.

I walked over to the entrance of the bar, stepping over the derelict rubble of the upturned establishment along the way. I could see Dwight begging me with his eyes not to do what I was about to do, but I didn't care, not enough at least. It should be me that took the blame for this if Negan decided I deserved it, not Dwight. Although that likely wouldn't be my choice to make.

As I reached Dwight I glanced back at Negan, who had taken a seat on one of the only upright tables in the place and was watching me intently. I smiled sadly back, but returned my attention to Dwight, who whispered my name under his breath, pleading with me. He closed his eyes as my hand touched his burned cheek. I had watched Negan do this to him. I had watched as the heat had stolen his skin, as Negan exacted his cruel and unusual punishment. I had seen Negan take Sherry from him. I had seen him rise up through the ranks to become one of Negan's right hand men and I had also become his friend.

I ran my hand down from Dwight's face and across his chest as I stalked across the doorway to Paul, who in stark contrast to Dwight had been undressing me with his eyes since he had walked in. Paul immediately lapped up the attention and was unfortunately blissfully unaware that even though it was me that was instigating this behaviour, Negan would punish him for it, for his keenness. Most men were still stupid, even in this apocalypse.

Paul's hand were on me instantly. He rubbed my body with little care for me, but I wasn't bothered, this wasn't about him nor me for that matter. He pulled my hips to him and I responded by grinding against him. Throwing my head back and staring at the ceiling as Paul's lips nibbled at my bosom.

Negan was silent, I'd not heard so much as a tongue click from him. Though I knew he hated this. He'd explicitly told me previously that this behaviour was unbecoming of any woman he wished to be his wife. I'd pointed out that he might wish for that but I would never be one of his many. He'd roughly slammed me against the wall for my insolence and I'd kissed him. We had fucked hard that day and had barely spoken a word to one another, but he'd made sure I knew what he wanted.

Paul turned me around, so that his hips cradled my ass. Such a stupid man, but he was a good fighter. God only knew what he had done before, my guess was probably not a lot. He was very generic looking, in his late thirties with a shaved head, no beard, heavily built but nothing notable about him at all. If I never saw him again he wouldn't be missed.

I helped myself to another swig of my whiskey and finally dropped my gaze on Negan, wondering when he would stop me. He perched on the table, holding Lucille in his ungloved hand, she rested on his shoulder. His eyes bore into mine, as Paul's clumsy fingers found the buttons of my shirt.

Warily, I held Negan's eye. He was doing well calling my bluff but as Paul's fingers ripped my shirt from my chest I think his shallow intake of breath gave him away.

"Enough," Negan growled lowly, a beat later though he didn't move.

Paul, who apparently had situational deafness, didn't hear him and ran his hand down my belly, which was now on show. His hips nudged at me and he pushed me face first over a nearby table. I lay my cheek against the wood of the table top and waited. Either Negan would let Paul fuck me, and teach me a lesson, or he would stop him. Right now I really didn't care which. Paul ran his hands down my spine and grabbed hold of my waistband.

Negan didn't speak again. One warning had been plenty for Paul. As Lucille smashed into the empty table top next to my face, Paul scrambled backward away from me.

"Negan, sir. But she was.. you said..." Paul couldn't form a sentence.

"Rape is against the rules, you know that," Negan paced purposely towards him, invading Paul's space. I stood and turned around, ignoring my torn shirt draped over my shoulders.

"But.. . She...Sir," Paul shook his head and stumbled over his words as he simultaneously tripped over some debris on the floor, stepping away from Negan. He fell and landed on his ass sprawled across the floor, every limb outstretched like a star.

"Ah, ah, ah," Negan chided, towering over him, "Sex with one of my wives is a particularly big no-no. Again! You know that! Why don't you ask Dwighty boy what could happen after that?" He smirked. Although this hadn't been why Negan had melted Dwight's face from his skull, Dwight's face would always serve as a reminder to those who doubted Negan's twisted regime.

Although he'd referred to me as his wife, I remained silent, just quietly watching this unfold. What did that say about me? What was I actually trying to achieve here? I didn't know, couldn't care. Eventually no man would want to touch me, Negan treated me like I was already his, except I wasn't.

Nonchalantly Negan swung his bat into the air, though very threateningly.

"Sir, I...I...I wont lay a hand on her again..." Paul stammered.

"Oh, Petey I know you wont," he swung heavily into the air again. Negan glanced back at me with a huge grin, he'd laid his bait.

I almost winced, predicting what was coming. I shook my head, but Negan paid me no heed.

"It's Paul, sir."

"I. Don't. Care," Negan swung high again and brought down the bat on Paul's outstretched hand, crushing it instantly.

Paul let out a blood curdling scream, and clutched his mangled, bloody mess of a hand.

"Dwight," Negan beckoned him over to them, while he pulled on Paul's shirt to wipe off Lucille, "Take...Paul... back to the Doc."

Dwight didn't say a word but scooted over and helped Paul up and out of the bar, leaving me alone with Negan.


End file.
